


I Can Keep A Secret

by grandebatbae



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Seduction, Smut, Sneaking Around, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandebatbae/pseuds/grandebatbae
Summary: Damian was questioning his self-worth after two break-ups. Bruce, not able to find that out on his own thinks a weekend with the Clark boys as guests might help.It does, when Damian sneaks into Clark's room the first night for gratification.





	I Can Keep A Secret

**Author's Note:**

> You know that cliché porn title “Daughter/Son Fucks Dad’s Friend”…?  
> Yeah  
> That’s the inspiration  
> Or it could be “Father Fucks Son’s Best Friend.”  
> This idea just...came to me.  
> Like, I don't know how??  
> ...It will be a couple of parts.  
> Damian's 18  
> .....Should I write BruJon?....

Damian had been acting strange lately. Bruce hadn’t noticed at first; it was Alfred whom brought it to his attention. The elderly butler had come to him and expressed worry on Damian’s sudden relapse of his previous personality.

“It’s nothing, Alfred. I’m sure he’s just getting used to being an official adult.”

That theory held out for all of two hours that day. In that time Damian had managed to bring back several painful memories for Bruce of cold treatment and a loveless father-son relationship. Suddenly eight years seemed to have never happened and Damian was ten again.

Grumpy, surly and unresponsive to an emotional touch.

Bruce _tried,_ once he realised Alfred was right. He spent a week trying to pick apart the signs the teen was giving him. Even being the world’s greatest detective did not seem to contribute to dissecting what was wrong with his son.

And so, in a rare, rare, _rare_ (in his opinion) lapse of madness, Bruce called Clark. Selina had been little help even if she and Damian has somewhat of a close relationship. He had accepted her as some form of step-mother.

Clarke had Jon and perhaps a better chance at understanding Damian’s issue. Clark wasn’t exactly raising Jon _alone_ but he was raising him _single._ He and Lois shared custody.

So they were invited over for the weekend. Damian sits beside him now, adjacent to the head of the table where his father sits. He stares down at his plate of delectable food, refusing to meet eyes with Bruce _or_ their guests.

Across from the teen-adult is Clark and Jon, the younger actively talking about some show he and Damian has watched separately. Yet, the other teen was unresponsive.

“Damian,” Clark begins cheerfully, “How does it feel to be 18?”

Bruce’s muscles tense, aware of that question’s effect on his son.

“I can do more, obviously… but I haven’t explored that yet,” Damian says, eyes flicking up to look at the broad-shouldered man before dropping them back down.

Immediately Bruce relaxes. That was the exact opposite of every other answer he has given to that question. When Dick asked Damian told him to shut up, when Selina asked Damian told her it felt like nothing had changed, when Jason asked he was met with a stony glare.

But Damian _responded_ to Clark, and looked at him.

For the rest of dinner he watches his son occasionally answer John’s excited questions. When Damian would look up thinking no one was watching, he’d stare at Clark with an almost calculating look. The teen seemed to be trying to figure out something about his friend’s father.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred announces when he steps out, “my apologies for interrupting, but Commissioner Gordon is on the phone. He claims to have urgent information for your pertaining to your latest case. He requires your assistance immediately.”

It was a knee-jerk reaction. Bruce gets to his feet.

So does Damian.

“You stay here,” he tells his son, eyes training on that hard expression, “I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t do alone.”

For a split second Bruce is sure Damian is going to object. He’s going to pout and slam his hands on the table just like he would have eight years ago.

“…Fine.”

His father manages to fight down the shocked expression as he straightens up and steps backwards.

“Clark, do you mind?”

“Not at all, Bruce. Call if you need anything.”

“Of course,” not, “Damian, be a good host.”

With that, Bruce leaves for the cave to collect the Batmobile.

 

◊

 

It had taken a lot of low-key teenage tantrums to get out of sharing a room with John. There were hundreds at the manor, so should the other not have his own? They shared when they were children, but Damian was not a child anymore.

Whilst Clark had retired to his own room Damian was dragged to Jon’s to sit and watch ridiculous videos on his laptop. Subtly the other boy tried to pry information out of Damian. The more angry of the two said nothing.

Damian did not move from his place on the guest bed until he was sure Jon was asleep. Then, with all the stealth in the world, he picks up his own pair of headphones and places them over Jon’s ears.

What Damian was about to attempt may get _loud_ , and the last thing he wants is Jon walking in.

With the caution of a kitchen mouse he leaves the room. The manor is dark which indicates that Alfred is asleep. Damian will have all the time in the world, knowing his father will not be back for hours due to patrol and focus.

Taking a deep, relaxing breath, he raises a closed fist and knocks on the door shielding light from the corridor.

 _“Come in,”_ is the response.

Damian opens the door immediately. Clark Kent is sitting back against his pillows on the same king-sized bed that graces all of the rooms at Wayne Manor. His legs are stretched out and crossed. There is a note pad in his hand and a pen in his hair nestled beside his glasses.

“Damian,” is the first thing he says when he looks at his visitor, blue eyes glistening in the lamp light. It’s perfect mood lighting, Damian thinks.

“Clark,” he responds, stepping in and shutting the door.

The man sits up, swivelling around so his legs hang off the bed. He reaches up and removes his glasses, which causes Damian’s breath to hitch as he stalks slowly into the room. The younger searches desperately for something, _anything_ to say to patch up some of the awkwardness and create common ground.

“You use paper and pen?” He gets out in a soft manner. _Perfect_ he tells himself.

Clark looks confused before his eyes drop to his lap where his utensils lie.

“Yes,” he says with a light chuckle that brings Damian’s heart a carnal instinct. The Wayne Manor rooms are vast. There is still space between Damian and the bed. “I prefer pen and paper to iPads, unlike others. I like the simplicity.”

Clark is smiling at his face. His _face,_ not lingering down his body like his eyes were when Damian beat Alfred to opening the door.

“As do I,” Damian responds, inching closer with his hands behind his back. Kent is doing well to not allow his eyes to wander as they did before. Damian _knows_ how he looks, has hoarded his past lover’s comments. He wears black skinny jeans. At first they were a bother, but the more Tim wore them the more Damian wanted to as well. They made his legs look _good,_ not that they needed help, but still.

“Yes, I understand you have quite the talent for drawing.”

His shirt? An elbow-length, high-kneck top designed to slim and refine. It does just that and Damian knows he is stunningly delectable.

Good enough?

“I find it a reprieve against the destructive lives we live,” he admits.

“Understandable,” Clark grins. His teeth are _blindingly_ white. “When you’re a creative lives like ours are even harder… And I understand you’re going through something right now. Did you, uh, want to talk about it? I know Bruce is worried.”

Clark’s concern is genuine but caution still reads clear in his tone. Damian ignores it as well as the question. He simply turns and elegantly seats himself on the bed, half a metre between them. He doesn’t glance to the side but he can _see_ the vast _beefiness_ of Clark Kent and his meaty, enormous form.

Damian’s mouth _waters_ for the other thickset parts of him.

“You have had relationships with the same gender, correct?” He asks with no force in his tone. It was a simple, honest question.

“Uh, yes,” Clark answers. It’s not in a hesitant way, but the query clearly shocked him

“As have I. Something you and father know of. What father did no know is that I had relations with Timothy when I was seventeen, just this past year,” Damian admits. His eyes are still glued to the door.

“I see,” Clark says. It irks Damian that his only comment at this point is so dull.

“I spent many years infatuated with Timothy. It took very much convincing and pursuing to have him in my bed. On my seventeenth birthday he finally agreed,” Damian tilts his head, bearing his neck. He desperately wants to look at Clark’s crotch to see if anything is stirring, but his eyes remain on the far wall. “He took my body to unimaginable heights,” he admits.

 _That_ makes him squirm.

“Timothy broke it off, citing that I was too young and that it still felt wrong after our fourteenth time. I counted. I was _broken_ after that, so I went to Colin. You know him, of course?”

Damian finally turns to look at Clark. His face is very still-set, but he hasn’t told the teen to stop. Damian smirks inwardly, _almost like he wants to hear._

“Yes, Colin Wilkes. He’s a nice boy.”

“Yes. I thought he might heal the damage Timothy left behind. Instead he created a bigger hole when he too left me,” Damian’s voice drops to a tone of real sadness. “These past weeks I have been questioning…” He looks at Clark with a defeated expression that just _may_ be put on, “what is wrong with me?”

Clark looks surprised at the last few words.

“Damian, how could you say that? Relationships don’t reflect on who we are or what we’re worth. You go out there risking you life every night and _that_ shows who you are. It shows you’re a fighter with a passion for justice. Things like- Things like sex aren’t reflective of who we are.”

The sudden bursts startles Damian for a moment. He recovers quickly as his eyelids lower.

“You’re right,” he says softly. Clark’s intense gaze softens, his exterior relaxing, “I know that things like that aren’t supposed to…” Damian trails of, trying to guide the interaction in the right direction. “I _like_ being looked at like that. _Admired._ Everyone does, do they not?”

“Of course they do. It’s not irregular or anything,” Clark says, glancing away as he fiddles with his glasses.

Damian fights down the dark grin nearly forming on his face.

“Do you?” Damian asks. He feels himself shifting towards the edge of the bed.

“I-…Of course. Like I said, it’s normal to take in people’s opinions this way-“

“No,” Damian interrupts. The next sound he hears is his own knees crashing into the carpet. “I meant, do you look at me like that?” Jade eyes seem to cut lines in Clark’s face as the teen swivels around, moving with grace towards the man’s legs.

“W-What?” Clarke panics as careful hands rest on his material-clad thighs.

Damian’s stare is set on what looks like a very _large_ appendage straining in beige trousers.

“I saw the way you looked at me,” Damian says. Clark looks like he wants to push him away, but he doesn’t use tactics like that in these situations. He might slip up and send Damian into the wall. So he protests and wriggles as Damian’s hands slide forward towards his crotch. "Don't you want me?"

 _"No!_ Damian, this is inappropriate!"

"Then why are you getting hard, Kent?" The snippy teen responds, inhaling as if the warmth the main radiates has a scent. It will, when he gets closer to his prize. "Mmh, you look  _big._ I think I could take you though."

"T-Ta... _Take?"_ Clarke starts to panic in his confused, aroused state.

"Yes, when you fuck me," Damian explains calmly, unhooking the button on Clark's trousers.

  

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr:  
> animegrandeandbatbaes


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